


Die Welt ist eine Bühne

by Verbrennung



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Eren and Jean were A Thing, F/F, I don't know if soulmates exist but they sure are something like it, M/M, Years of Pining, Ymir and Jean are v close, Ymir and Krista are the cutest side-pairing, but now he's back, but of course Eren had to see the world, but this is primary a Jean/Eren story, dramatic love story, enemies to friends to (kind of) lovers, first half is from ymir's point of view, it works I swear, just Ymir will never not be Jean's BFF in my fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4054906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbrennung/pseuds/Verbrennung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Eren’s coming back.”</p><p>Ymir’s first response is overwhelming relief, because whenever Krista wants to sit down and ‘talk’ about something serious, she’s usually done something wrong. So yeah, knowing she hasn’t done something to piss the shorter woman off is enough to inspire a long sigh of relief (which Krista is not amused by).</p><p>The second is, well – “Oh shit.”</p><p>So she’s the one that gets to tell Jean, huh.</p><p> </p><p>OR ALTERNATIVELY: Jean and Eren were definitely A Thing in college (love was involved) but then Eren left on a journey around the world to expand his horizons and find himself. What happens when he returns home? Jean has spent a long time being heartbroken and wishing Eren would come back, but what's the reality? Are they really meant to be? JEAN/EREN. First chapter is Ymir POV, second is Jean POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I don't know what to say about this fic. Thanks for clicking it and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This first part is told from Ymir's point of view, but rest assured this is a Jean/Eren story through and through! :)  
> I just really think she is the perfect foil for Jean and I love the relationship the two had in my last (totally unrelated) fic, so she's back again. I also just really like reading stories about people getting together from an outsider's perspective.
> 
> I tried something a little new so I hope it goes well. Thanks to everyone who gave kudos/commented/bookmarked my other fic! Also thanks to the omegle RPers out there! I'm on there a lot since I'm trash that loves this pairing but is too dumb to understand how to RP on tumblr or anything like that, so if you go on omegle you've probably come across me in any Jean/Eren-related interest tag at some point :9

  
  
  
“Eren’s coming back.”

Ymir’s first response is overwhelming relief, because whenever Krista wants to sit down and ‘talk’ about something serious, she’s usually done something wrong, so she’d been preparing for a metaphorical castration all day. So yeah, knowing she hasn’t done something to piss the shorter woman off is enough to inspire a long sigh of relief (which Krista is not amused by).

The second is, well – “Oh shit.”

So she’s the one that gets to tell Jean, huh.  
  
  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
  
She’s going to tell him. Really, she will. She’s just waiting for the right time. That’s what she tells Krista anyway, who is pissed off a week later when she finds out that Jean still doesn’t know. Ymir is cornered, stuck between and angry woman and the kitchen counter, Krista waving a spatula threateningly in her face as she hisses her disapproval, so when Jean calls through from the living room asking if everything’s alright with dinner, she’s only too happy to yelp a ‘yeah, fine!’ and run back to him. The burning blue-eyed gaze on her back says she’s in for it later, though.

Fuck, it was hard though.

Realistically, she should have done it over mics after they finished their latest campaign on Destiny, or when they’d taken their bikes out to the hills for a ride on Sunday morning, or called him up on Wednesday after Jean sent her a picture of a cherub statue in the park that looked _exactly_ like Marco. But, telling Jean that his ex (sort of-)boyfriend slash ‘the one that got away’ slash the only person that ever managed to twist him inside out was apparently returning wasn’t an easy job, or one anyone else they knew was willing to do. It was enough to make even Ymir jittery and on-edge after all. Unfortunately, as Jean’s (reluctant) best friend (aside from Marco who was busy surveying marsupials in New Zealand or whatever he did there), apparently it was her duty to do it.

That night, long after Jean has left, the two women are lying in bed, and despite the fact her patrol begins at seven o’clock the next morning and Krista has rowdy eight year olds to handle when the school bell tolls at nine, Ymir is trying her hardest to make the petite woman a little less pissed at her. After five minutes of going round and round in circles with shit excuses and the occasional interjection of desperate pleas for forgiveness, she’s struck by genius.

She sits up with a gasp at the brilliance of her hair-brained plan, hitting a fist into an open palm, and that’s enough to finally make her girlfriend turn to face her, curiosity winning over frustration.

“Okay, so how about this,” she says, eyes manic in the dark bedroom as the turns to Krista, grabbing her hands earnestly. “We go out and get him really, really drunk. That way I don’t have to be tactful about it and he has an excuse if he cries.”

Krista knows it’s stupid, and an incredibly bad idea. But time is running out, Ymir’s logic is actually seems pretty sound, and she knows they don’t have another option.  
  
  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
  
It’s a known thing in their immediate friendship group, and even somewhat of a legend among people on the ‘fringe’; people they know and are friends with that aren’t a part of the notorious and at-times impenetrable ‘inner circle’. Everyone has heard the story, and most have even told it at some point, but _never_ in front of or around Jean. So it’s common knowledge, but it’s been retold and rehashed so many times that it has become just that - a legend - some things exaggerated and some things changed to make it a more interesting and dramatic piece of gossip.

Ymir likes to think she has the most accurate and therefore least-sensational version (from Jean’s side, anyway), because she was there for the whole damn thing. It’s still pretty dramatic, though.

So this is how the story goes:  
  
  


**ACT ONE**

  
Jean and Eren (and everyone else) are high schoolers. They don’t go to the same school. In fact, the only reason they meet is because Armin and Jean are ‘mathletes’ for their respective schools, and get to know each other thanks to a friendly but no less intense rivalry between the two teams. Armin is an all-round nerd and looks it thanks to his petit form and girly hairstyle, and Jean is (a math nerd, yes, but otherwise) a generally shitty and rebellious student, as well as a member of the soccer team, and looks it. So when Armin goes to grab some extra napkins from the counter while Jean is ordering a post-match milkshake, and the taller recognises him - in true Jean style, can’t help but make some bullshit remark and a threat that next time, his team’s gonna whoop Armin’s team’s mathematical ass - something is gonna happen. Neither of their respective tables actually hears the conversation, but Eren, righteous and loud and bruised still from his latest scuffle with the assholes at his own school, sees Jean’s school soccer hoodie and Armin’s wide eyes and their long list of differences and immediately assumes the worst. A few minutes later, after the yelling and shoving has gotten both sets of teens thrown out of the diner, an explanation is given and the situation is (more or less) diffused.

Somehow, the six of them – Jean, Marco, Ymir, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin – end up hanging out with each other occasionally, when they cross paths or meet at inter-school events. Jean and Eren get on like a house on fire – but not in the ‘really well’ sense. In the ‘oh god this is going fucking terribly the whole thing’s gonna blow everyone get out NOW’ sense. They squabble and fight and quip at each other and at the end of their senior year, they exchange bust lips - the worst graduation gift ever - and ruin both of their mother’s pictures from the day.  
  
  


**ACT TWO: SCENE ONE**

  
Jean and Eren are in college. So are Armin, Marco and Mikasa (only because she got a sport scholarship and her two best friends are also going), but Ymir _knows_ she isn’t the studious type, so says bye-bye to education and decides to spend the near future working a real job for a real wage and getting her fitness up until she figures out what she wants to do. It’s not the same as high school though, because the two groups basically merge into one now five of the six attend the same school. Even so, they’re all doing their own shit, and their class schedules don’t align too well, and Ymir is living at home and working whilst the others are in dorms, so it’s not like they all hang out all the time. There’s a loud girl called Sasha in one of Jean’s classes and one morning she just turns to her left and straight-out asks Jean if he _really_ wants that bagel or if he’d be willing to donate it to a worthy cause, ie her. Utterly baffled and secretly happy someone in his class actually spoke to him, Jean lets her have it.

So Sasha somehow worms her way into their dysfunctional little group, and with her comes Connie: her short, bald childhood friend/boyfriend who studies something to do with business and makes it onto the soccer team with Jean. Ymir only gets to meet them like two months after this all happens, at some obnoxious frat party because she finally has the weekend off. She loves the drama and ridiculousness of college, loves the two of them because they’re dumb and loud and dynamic, just loves _everything_ because she is so fucking _drunk_. She’s not too drunk to notice the change between Jean and Eren though, who still bicker constantly but in a slightly different way that she can’t quite place. According to Mikasa, their schedules line up the most so they’ve actually been hanging out more (at first out of necessity and loneliness and then later out of _choice_ because apparently they had a lot in common). She thinks that’s fine, because they really are similar, and Jean needs a new partner in crime now he and Ymir are lucky to see each other once a week instead of every day like they had in middle and high school.

Freshman year (because even though Ymir doesn’t attend college her life at this time is sorted by semesters and breaks because that’s what all her friends live by) passes by and can be summarised by the words: excited, busy, drunk, poor, tired, drunk, confused, drunk, high, poor, finals, _free for summer_.  
  
  


**ACT TWO: SCENE TWO**

  
When school starts up for the next academic year, her friends know what to expect, and aren’t taking as many classes, so life is a little easier. Jean, Connie and Sasha manage to find a two-bedroom apartment in a building not too far from campus for a reasonable price. Marco becomes an RA and Ymir doesn’t know what the other three are doing, doesn’t ask and doesn’t particularly care, if she’s brutally honest (which she is, always). She could _maybe_ afford her own tiny place, but the financials are too close for comfort and her dad would probably get too lonely living by himself (or so she tells herself – truth is, she just isn’t ready to leave). It’s during a mundane conversation with him over the barbeque in the backyard one evening she decides that yeah, she wants to follow his footsteps and enrol in the police academy. She needs to be twenty-one for that though, so she’ll wait and she’ll work and have fun but be careful not to add any more points to her (thanks to teenage rebellion and Jean’s egging on) rather colorful record.

February rolls around and the den of depravity that is Jean, Connie and Sasha’s apartment is open to all for a Superbowl party. The usual suspects are there, and a few other people she’s met in passing, but Ymir doesn’t care because there’s a girl making two bowls of nachos in the kitchen – and is that a tray of brownies cooling on the countertop? …No, it isn’t, it’s a tray of _hash brownies _cooling on the countertop, and Ymir is in love because this is one of the last chances she has to indulge and what are the odds of this happening?__

She’s called Krista and she lives across the hall and she’s small and cute and is studying elementary education but she has an edge to her that confuses people but bewitches Ymir and oh holy fucking hell, this is love at first sight, isn’t it?

But anyway, this is supposed to be Eren and Jean’s story.

It’s a known fact that the Super Bowl isn’t about sports at all, just an excuse to have a party and eat too much food and get wasted, but Jean and Eren pick opposite teams to support despite not really giving a shit, just so they can have a valid(ish) reason to argue. Jean’s team loses and the other boy won’t let him forget it even two hours after the thing has finished, and he’s drunk and swanning around the living room like he’s the fucking King and Ymir watches in genuine surprise as Jean finally snaps and moves from where he was seemingly dead slumped against the couch to lunge at Eren, bringing him to the ground. They roll around and yell and rough house and it’s actually the best part of the night, everyone else jeering and laughing, more invested in the short play fight than they ever had been in the football game.

Eren gets himself a boyfriend a month later, a smooth-talking senior who works in the campus coffee shop and is involved in the campus newspaper just like Eren is. He’s a little pretentious, Ymir thinks when she meets him for the first and last time (her and Eren don’t exactly hang out and he doesn’t last long, in the end), but he’s alright, and Eren’s into him. Jean doesn’t like him though. Which admittedly isn’t unusual for someone as socially-stunted and difficult as Jean, but he _really_ doesn’t like this guy, and for no real reason, which _is_ a little odd to Ymir. Jean is snappy and more irritating than usual for a little while, until he realises and apologises to everyone, and cuts back on being an asshole as much as he can. Another month and Eren and his boyfriend split up, and Jean fully recovers from whatever bitch virus had bitten him in the ass, so once again, everything is fine.

What absolutely is _not_ fine is what Ymir sees when a handful of them meet around finals. Krista, her amazing snarky girlfriend and resident domestic goddess of their group, wants to make them dinner to make sure they’ve had at least one proper meal and a chance to socialize and regroup during this crazy time, which is great, but something again is _different_. Ymir is quiet and analysing all through the meal, and it’s only after they’ve finished eating and Eren and Mikasa offer to take the plates back over to the kitchen, and she catches Jean watching the brunet juggle too many plates and almost drop one with a stupid expression on his face when it finally hits her.

God, they’re _fucking_.

Jean tries to deny it when she corners him at the end of the night, ready to explode from keeping the accusation in this whole time, but he’s always been a terrible liar and he gets flustered and can never circumvent his best friend’s doggedness. After a couple of minutes he tells Ymir its fine, they aren’t together they’ve just kind of fooled around a couple of times, no it’s not serious, and don’t tell anyone because it’s not a Big Deal.  
  
  


**ACT TWO: SCENE THREE**

  
It’s not a Big Deal after all, because it doesn’t last very far into junior year. Ymir doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, it’s just what happens. Classes may ease off but now half way through college, the Studious Five seem to get a little more serious, taking up opportunities that could bolster their grades and improve their resume when they get the chance, and Ymir prepares her application to the police academy. Connie and Sasha want their own place this time, which works out fine because Ymir has enough money saved to not worry about rent too much, and her dad has finally convinced her he’ll be fine alone, dammit, so her and Jean decide it’d be the best thing to be roommates. Spoiler: it is the best thing, but it’s also the worst thing. They get closer, at least, able to see a lot more of each other than they have the last two years, and finally manage to rebuild their friendship from a more superficial ‘high school’ friendship to an adult one. They learn new things about each other, things that deepen their friendship (like their worst fears and their aspirations) and things they _never_ wanted to know but find out anyway (like what sounds each other make when they orgasm in the next bedroom, or what kind of terrible shit they’ll eat when they’re broke and have barely anything in the kitchen).

Krista is a constant all the while - becomes a sort of unofficial third resident - but a number of people come and go where Jean’s concerned, some only for one night and some a little more serious. For that whole year, Ymir never sees Jean look at one person the way he looked at Eren that night in Krista’s apartment. One girl comes close, she’s intelligent and quick-witted and gives Jean a run for his money, but then they start to argue. And not in the lively way Jean and Eren argue, in a vicious, eyes-cold-and-words-scalding kind of way that even makes Ymir uncomfortable when she hears them from her bedroom. She sleeps with some guy in her class in the end though, so she doesn’t last. They had been long over by then to be honest, and Ymir thinks the bitch wanted to go down in a blaze of glory; have her final stab at Jean and win their volatile game of one-up.  
  
  


**ACT TWO: SCENE FOUR**

  
Senior year is a _trip_ because everyone wants to do well and finish but that means everyone’s busy studying and taking those last few credits and ticking boxes to graduate. Ymir has long since completed her academy course and is in the realm of working on a ‘real’ career. She gets treated like a newbie, and gets all the shitty jobs, and all the older guys love to make a fuss of her (and not in a particularly good way) for being Enis Berker’s daughter, but she has a sharp tongue and a clever wit and an above average fitness level, so she can and does handle herself.

Jean is trying to graduate as best he can and get a good leg-up for his future career (which is something with numbers – Ymir doesn’t get it or care and she makes that clear), as are the others. Well, apart from Eren and Sasha. The former is still working on his Journalism degree, but has developed an interest in photography too, is involved in a bunch of random projects and publications already, but doesn’t seem to be interested in preparations for the future. Sasha is just going with the flow, keeping up with Jean in studies as always but being a hell of a lot more relaxed about the ‘after graduation’ thing.

Jean and Eren start hooking up again, when they aren’t too busy, and after a while, it isn’t odd or awkward for Ymir to find Eren in their kitchen on a morning or sprawled on their couch when she gets home from work. The two guys aren’t _together_ together (in an official capacity) but they’re _together_ and everyone knows it. The green-eyed brunet turns Jean _out_ , and though Ymir doesn’t want to think about it or delve into her Best Bro For Life’s sexual existence, she can tell that Eren pulls him in like no one else ever has or ever will, because when they’re hooking up Jean rarely fools around with anyone else, and his hazel eyes barely leave Eren’s form when they’re in the same room together, as if he’s utterly captivated by him. To Jean, he’s the perfect partner. It should be weird but everyone silently agrees that for some reason , it works.

And it works (off and on and unexclusive) for that whole year.

Ymir and Krista watch Jean slowly fall in honest-to-God love in that period.

Eren makes socially-awkward, garbage-talking Jean gentle and caring and protective and pensive and jealous and social and happy and sad and mature without even trying. It’s messy and it’s not smooth-sailing like it always is in books but ultimately, love looks really good on Jean.

 

But then they graduate and everything goes to shit.  
  
  


**~~FINAL~~ ACT THREE**

  
Jean gets offered a job right out of college as a… Well, it’s in an office at a good firm and it’s something to do with numbers, Ymir knows that much. Armin stays on at school to do more smart academic type shit, Mikasa graduates and gets some job as a sports therapist or something, Marco gets his whatever degree and starts looking into things he can do outside of the country, Krista is working her way to being a full-fledged teacher with her own students, and Connie and Sasha manage to get jobs, much to everyone else’s relief. And Eren –

Well. Eren wants to ‘find himself’, wants to go out into the world and see things with his own eyes, learn how other people live and gain an understanding of life and the world, or some other bullshit. He’s adamant about leaving, is sorry to leave his friends but knows that it’s something he wants and has to do, and something he has to do alone. So he leaves, because there isn’t really anything holding him back (Jean and he were never an actual couple, had never made a commitment or promises to each other) and the blond-haired man is left to pine.

That’s where the story ends to everyone but Ymir. That’s because there’s a secret Ymir knows, a secret that she hasn’t told to anyone, not even Krista.  
  
  
  


**ACT THREE: SCENE TWO (SECRET SCENE)**

  
Jean goes to Eren the night before he’s due to head out, and begs and pleads for him to stay. Gets angry and yells and actually says ‘I love you’ and means it for the first and last time in his personal history like he thought it would change things.

It didn’t. 

Eren left anyway, because he needed to and this would be his only chance. It could be too late if he waited any longer. Now that would have made Eren look like a complete and utter bastard (and kind of does), but Ymir knows Eren loves Jean, too. Not because Mikasa told her so one day, not even because _Eren_ told her one night when she found him in the kitchen making tea and looking distraught at four A.M. She knows because to her it’s fucking obvious, because at some point, Eren started looking at Jean the way Jean looked at Eren.

Not that that really matters, because Jean still gets hurt. Still gets his heart broken. Still comes back to their apartment, climbs into bed with Ymir for the first time ever and cries and tells her what happened and how much he loves Eren and asks _’what the fuck am I gonna do now, Yms?’_ in a voice so fucked up that even cold-hearted, snide Ymir has to take him in her arms and shed a few tears for him when he’s too devastated himself to notice.

**\- - END - -**

 

 

Weeks, months, years pass and life continues. Jean gets a promotion because even though he’s an ass, he’s a clever and efficient and hard-working ass, and Ymir starts to get the recognition she feels she rightly deserves. Jean can afford his own place in the city, and when Krista gets a job in an elementary school in the nice suburbs just outside of that same city, her and Ymir get a small place close by. Mikasa is still working at her job, Armin finally leaves school and starts getting his clever research shit published or whatever, Connie and Sasha get _engaged_ (Sasha proposes the moment before they step off the ledge at a couples’ bungee jump), and Marco goes to New Zealand to live in harmony with the marsupials.

Eren ‘finds’ himself, in Asia and Africa and Europe and South America, spending his trust fund and when that runs out, getting jobs that never last more than half a year but fund him enough. He never stays in one place for too long, but still manages to run a blog and write articles and pieces that get published in national magazines. He keeps in contact with them, mass-sending them email updates every now and then, replying to their individual responses and updates, because he’s still a part of their circle, a cog in their machine, and it’s not like any of them hate him or anything. Not even Jean, though he doesn’t like to discuss the other much, trying too hard to be casual and nonchalant and always switching subjects after a while. Jean has flings and has relationships and Ymir likes some and dislikes some but no one comes close to Eren or what he was to Jean, and Ymir really hopes her best friend can meet his ‘Krista’ soon so she doesn’t have to worry about him so much. She’s not a person who likes to be concerned for people.  
  
  
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Back to the present, and unfortunately, concerned is exactly what she is. Their sting operation is in full swing – Ymir has even invited Connie and Sasha (“it’s a weekend, why not?”) to make it seem more natural. She is a mastermind and this is going to go well. Not really. She’s concerned because Jean is _really_ drunk, and fuck, she’s going to actually tell him tonight and then it’s going to go to shit. But, at least the truth will be out and she won’t have this fucking looming over her anymore. 

That’s the plan, anyway, until she finds the Terrible Two and Krista again after a trip to the bathroom (she broke the god damn seal too early) and Connie informs her with an ecstatic grin that the trio should be around here somewhere by now and shouldn’t they go find them? Trio? There’s only Mikasa and Armin left that she can think Connie would invite, and the only other person that would be grouped together with them to make them a ‘trio’ would be—

She finally notices Krista’s frantic blue eyes, which confirm the outrageous suspicion that oh god Eren is here already.

Eren is not only here in the city but also here in this very club and fuck Ymir hasn’t told Jean yet, he _doesn’t know_.

She flies into a panic, which is only exacerbated by the alcohol in her own system, and tears away from the group to Connie and Sasha’s absolute bemusement. Fuck them. They hadn’t done it on purpose, only wanted to reunite the group at last (except for Marco, bless his soul) but still, fuck them. 

There’s more than one floor to this place, and Jean isn’t in the smoking area like she thought he might be, which makes her job so much harder. She’s forcing her way through the crowd, her drunkenness only fuelling her determination and her panic, but still she _can’t find Jean_.

It’s okay though, because Jean finds her, blurred hazel eyes catching sight of her across the room and coming forward to grab her arm and pull her away from the crowd, towards the wall. It’s loud in here and they’re both drunk and finding it a little hard to focus, but she hears him loud and clear.

“It could just be all the liquor in my body right now, or I could be going crazy, but I think I just saw Eren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand that's it for part one! Hope you enjoyed; thanks for reading!
> 
> For part two I think I'll switch to Jean's POV for the *gasp* reunion.  
> Let me know what you thought and your ideas/what you think for the second part!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean deals with the trauma of being reunited with Eren whilst being really fucking wasted. 
> 
> Also somehow, he manages to make it work. Kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is a 3 part-er, now. (laugh)

Jean’s drunk, but he can still _see_ , and Ymir’s expression is as clear as day. Lips that are usually set in a snarky grin are parted, and her naturally sly brown eyes are wide, conveying emotions and messages only he or Krista or her dad could ever decipher. Oh God, she _knew_. And if Jean knew her at all, he’d guess she’d _known for a while_.

“I was going to tell you—“

His stomach swirls like the lights on the ceiling above him as he stares back at her, sick with horror and disbelief and too much alcohol.

“I didn’t know he was going to—“

There’s commotion to their right and even though his eyes are suddenly hazy from the shock of all this, he’ll do anything to look away from the guilt on Ymir’s face and the way her eyes have gotten shinier, wet. Unfortunately, what his gaze settles on is _so much worse_ because it’s Krista, and Connie, and Sasha, and Armin, and Mikasa, and –

Eren. It’s fucking Eren.

And he looks the same, but he looks different too, and that makes Jean confused, and he looks nervous and embarrassed like he knows he shouldn’t really be here, but it’s _Eren_ , and Jean has never thought of him anything less than beautiful.

He’s going to throw up.

He’s too fucking drunk for this. Connie is slapping him on the shoulder, and Jean is watching a pale hand belonging to Krista slide around Ymir’s bicep in comfort because he can’t look up at Eren anymore. Or anyone else. He hears “Eren’s finally back with us. Isn’t that great, dude?” and he thinks, _oh shit._

“Yeah, _wow_. Man, this is so great…” The words are out of his mouth without consulting his brain, and he knows it sounds anything but convincing; anything but sincere. “Look, I’d love to stay, but.. I’m so drunk. I should probably – go. Home. This has been really great but I need to go.”

There’s absolutely no attempt to cover up anything bar those pathetic words - the alcohol has stolen that ability from him, not that he was very good at that in the first place – and then he’s pushing past them, pushing through endless crowds of people until he’s finally through the doors and out onto the street. The fresh September air hits him hard though, and now that he’s away from deafening dance music his head spins anew, and he barely manages to make it around the corner before he’s bending double, heaving his guts out against the side of the club. He doesn’t know if it’s the shots and the Long Island Iced Teas or because of the trainwreck of whatever the fuck just happened. He stays there for a little while longer, crouched down and leaning heavily on the dumpster, evaluating his pathetic existence in his inebriation until he feels like he can pretend to be in acceptable enough condition to get a cab.

The taxi driver that pulls up to the kerb for him gives him a dubious look when he carefully climbs in (as carefully as a fatally drunk man can), like he doesn’t believe for a second he won’t puke. He doesn’t refuse him though, just hands him a paper sickbag through the money slot and informs him of the cleaning fine he’ll have to pay if he vomits anywhere inside the vehicle.

Jean nods and clutches the bag with sweaty fingers, head against the cool glass window, but apparently the gods are satisfied with the amount of tragedy bestowed upon him tonight, because he makes it all the way home without embarrassing himself any further.  
  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
The morning comes and Jean wakes up, finds himself kneeling on the tiled floor of his bathroom soon after. He’s sweating and shaking and everything _aches_ but he manages to drag himself over to the shower and wash away the sweat and the grime. The nausea and the headache stay, though.

The apartment isn’t a safe haven where he can wallow in his misery, though.

Jean knows this because as soon as he checks his phone he has more messages and missed calls than he’s ever received in his life. Most are from Ymir; he knows it’s only a matter of time before she comes over, and she has her own key to get in with if he doesn’t answer the door. He opens up his text conversation with her even though the brightness of the screen hurts his eyes, and though he doesn’t read any messages he’s sent, he writes his own, telling her he’s alive and no, he doesn’t hate her, but he doesn’t want to see her right now. They don’t keep things from each other, that isn’t how they work. Of course, he knows why she didn’t – couldn’t, whatever – tell him, but he’d needed her to come through on this one, had needed her to tell him and prepare him for seeing Eren again (not that he thought it’d ever be enough). It feels kind of like betrayal.

Fuck, he remembers every single thing from last night, curses his brain for choosing the worst opportunity to actually come through and offer memories from a night out. Blocking it out would have been so much easier, but Jean’s brain had never helped him out like that. It was impossible to forget a single thing about Eren, he knew that because he’d spent the last few years of his life trying to do exactly that.

Getting dressed and out of his apartment is an ordeal that takes far too much time, but he manages in the end, makes it to his favorite little coffee shop just a couple of blocks away. He’s been coming for years and loves virtually everything about it, but life is cruel today and the large windows at the front of the shop he usually loves are letting in far too much bright sunlight right now. He’s pleased he thought to wear sunglasses, big back Wayfarers that block out the bulk of the light and hide his red eyes from anyone looking at him, but he probably looks stupid sitting at one of the tables indoors with him on. Or blind.

But most likely stupid, because he’s curled up in the battered armchair looking very defeated and very fragile, and the bottle of painkillers beside his XL coffee is probably a dead giveaway to his situation. There’s an old lady in the corner who humphs at the sight of him, lifting her nose in the air and Jean can only lift his cup in a sardonic toast to her before taking another wary sip because he’s _very_ aware he is a disgrace.

He’s starting to feel a little more like a human around twenty minutes later, after deciding the sickly feeling is just something he’ll have to deal with today and not actually a sign he’s going to vomit again. Or so he hopes. He’s been staring blankly out the window (shades still on) for the last five minutes of those twenty, and he should probably order another coffee to justify staying here longer. Wonders how long he can hide in here today before he’s thrown out.

The bell above the door jingles loudly as someone opens the door with gusto, and Jean flinches at the sound, buries further into the large sweater he’d pulled on this morning, as if that’ll protect him from his hangover. There’s muffled conversation, then the distant hissing of a machine behind the counter, and someone saying thanks. He’s not really paying attention, but it sounds kind of like –

“Do you pretend to be blind in public places often?”

It’s Eren. Jean doesn’t move his body at all, finally comfortable, but he does move his gaze behind dark lenses to regard the other. Fuck, not a hallucination.

“No, but I quite like shaming myself by going out in public so hungover that people are disgusted just by looking at me. Do you have a gun?” Those two things aren’t related. Jean just wants a gun so he can shoot himself before this conversation happens.

He’s too fucking hungover for this.

Unfortunately, Eren has always had a knack for doing or saying the exact opposite of what Jean wants – in this case, it’s both, because he’s putting his tea down (and a new coffee for Jean), pulling back the other chair at the table while he asks “can I sit?”, even though he’s clearly not going to wait for an answer. Eren can’t see the displeasure in his eyes but Jean is confident the dissatisfied slant of his mouth gives away his feelings.

“Ymir is really worried about you,” the brunette says conversationally. His long tan fingers are skittering over his shitty cup in the way he always has done when his drink’s still too hot, and Jean wants to tell him to _fucking stop_. “And she feels awful. I think this might be the first time in her life. I didn’t know she was capable of remorse.”

“Why are you _here_ , Eren?” 

It’s an abrupt half-sigh, and it sounds tired and broken in a way Jean hadn’t meant but knows is probably inevitable. Eren stills, tilts his head to the side as he wraps the string from the teabag around his index finger. “In what capacity?” he asks, stilted in a way Jean’s not used to. He’s not used to anything about Eren anymore, it’s been years since he’s even heard his voice. It’s familiar, but not exactly like he remembered, like everything he’s seen of Eren so far. “I’m here, in this coffee shop, because when I asked Ymir she said you weren’t at home, and I knew you’d probably be here.”

Ah, that’s right. This place had only become _his_ once it had ceased to be _his and Eren’s_. They came here all the time during college after finding it one day completely by mistake. Jean wonders how many of his favorite places now have connections to Eren that he’s been blocking out all this time-- before he’s immediately crushing the thought because in the short list he’d managed to conjure up in those few seconds, the answer was every single one of them. “Oh.”

There’s silence, and in its oppressiveness Jean’s nausea and headache feel a million times worse.

“Your hair looks dumb.” The words tumble out of his mouth in almost the same way the vomit had the night before. He’d grimace if he had the ability to wear any expression without worsening his headache, because he _should_ know better at the ripe age of twenty-five, but well. He’d always had trouble with his brain-to-mouth filter and despite the trauma, Eren being here felt nostalgic in a way; made him feel like a dumb, insecure student all over again.

It’s virtually the same style it had been before, and has obviously been cut since his return home, but it’s been windy this morning and Eren’s hair had always taken any opportunity to go wild. The other man’s expression twists into a frown as he lifts a hand to attempt to pat down his birds’ nest of a hair-do. He wants to make a retort, Jean can tell, but green eyes cut to him for a second and he seems to reconsider, frowning harder around the rim of his tea cup as he takes a sip.

Jean hates that he doesn’t. Hates that he’d wanted him to, in the first place. It had been a silly attempt to fall back into their old pattern, and a fruitless one, at that. Things weren’t so simple.

They lapse into another silence then. Jean tries to sit as still as he can to keep his headache at bay (and okay, maybe he’s hoping that if he stays still for long enough he’ll cease to be visible) and Eren drinks his tea, shifting in his seat in an attempt to get comfortable. The blond doesn’t think it’s the chair that’s the problem though.

If Eren isn’t talking that’s all the better for him, it means he can try and get to grips with his traitorous body and his even more villainous mind. He’s thinking about Eren, thinking about how he’s finally _right there_ and how it’s all he’s ever wanted but now it’s here it’s just—

It’s not what he expected. He doesn’t feel like his whole word has shifted, realigned, made _right_ just from the return of his presence. He had spent so long and been so busy wishing for him to come back that he hadn’t thought about what would happen if - when – he finally did.

Of course it wouldn’t be the fucking same. How could it be?

He doesn’t hate Eren, though. Loves him still, always will, but not in the same way. Jean loves Eren in the way you love someone that’s been a major presence in your life, that has helped shaped you in some way or form into the person you are now, or the way you love someone you have loved with _everything_ , someone who at some point was the centre of your universe. He’s not _in love_ with Eren, not anymore, not right now, but he still loves him. It’s weird, loving someone that you used to know so fucking well, but now know hardly anything about. He had never thought it would be like this, had never thought Eren would be an ‘ex’. _The _ex. He should have known the first time he pulled him close and kissed him and felt his insides explode with joy.__

“I think it’s quite rude of you to come back when I’m still not over you.”

It’s supposed to be a quip, something to lighten the mood, as is one of his defence mechanisms, but Jean doesn’t know if it worked or not. Maybe it sounded pathetic. It’s said nonchalantly enough, before he sits forward (slowly and without jarring his body) to take a sip of his gifted coffee. He can see a sad smile tingeing the corners of Eren’s mouth, and yeah, that’s it. Not pathetic, not funny, just sad. The slant to his own mouth probably echoes the sentiment. His chest aches in a different way to the rest of his body now, and that pain is even more familiar than the morning-after headache he’s nursing. 

“In my defence, I didn’t know if you were or not.” 

True enough, it’s not like they’d had much personal contact with each other in the few years Eren had been gone. If anything, they’d both avoided it. He knows his friends had, too, when they acted as the mediator between them, sharing updates on behalf of the both of them. But Jean knows, thinks Eren probably does, too, that there would _never_ be a time when he’d be over Eren. So he doesn’t bother saying it.

He drums his fingers on the ripped upholstery of the chair and feels his throat tighten.

Jean isn’t an idiot. Had never been, really. He knows Eren had loved him back then. Maybe he feels similar to how Jean feels right now, too – it certainly seems so, in the uncomfortable, tense lines of his body; in the too-careful way he holds his tea cup up. The label’s swinging in the air below it, attached to the teabag still in the damn cup. Eren never took the teabag out before he drank, Jean hated that. Wasn’t it just inconvenient? - But yeah, Jean had known. Eren had never told him, not even that night, not even after Jean had thrown one of Armin’s glasses at the wall of the trio’s shared kitchen, shattering it to pieces, and yelled _”I fucking love you, so please-!”_

Jean would never have said it if he hadn’t known with every fucking fibre of his being that Eren felt the same.

The weight of what could have been if only Eren had stayed hangs heavy in the air between them, and Jean wishes (not for the first time) that he could hate Eren for it. He can’t though, because he’d known from the very beginning what Eren was like – his desire for _more_ was one of the many things he fell in love with him for. Jean had known that Eren would go, eventually, and also that he would never forgive himself if Eren had forced himself to stay for his sake.  
Not that it makes it any easier to bear.

“You know, you can’t-” He pauses, digs blunt nails into the meagre padding visible through the tear in the chair’s fabric. The chair had probably never been comfortable, even bought new. “If you stay for a while and then decide to go again. I don’t think – it’s selfish, but.. I - We can’t lose you again.” He didn’t know a thing about the brunette’s intentions, after all; had only had the fact of his return hit him like a sucker punch, triggering his flight reflex. Despite his own personal shitstorm after Eren had left, Jean hadn’t been blind to how it had affected the others – Armin and Mikasa had seemed to cope with it better than him at least, but he knew they missed him just as fiercely as he did, every single day. The others too, felt his absence. Eren had a talent for worming his way into people’s lives in some capacity, and that presence, whatever it was to them, was hard to replace. Eren’s departure had left a hole in the tight-knit fabric of their group that had never quite been repaired.

There’s a soft sound as Eren eventually sets his cup down, and he leans forward, eyes steady on Jean’s. “I know. I wouldn’t. I wanted to get out, to see how it was everywhere else, but this- it’s home. It was never going to be permanent, being away from here.” He looks away, licks his lips in a gesture of nervousness that initiates an onslaught of memories in Jean’s mind of him doing the exact same thing in at least ten different situations. “I got offered a job here. I just needed to know if-”

Eren stops himself, frowns hard at himself and it looks like he’s trying to find the right words, and Jean realizes what the fuck is happening.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare ask me if it’s okay for you to come back.”

Because it should be fucking obvious, right? It’s all Jean ever wanted. And after all of the _shit_ that happened, Jean would never stop him out of some petty spite. How could he, when Eren hadn’t done what he did to hurt Jean in the first place? All Jean wanted was him back, because even before Eren was his lover, or the person he loved, or whatever he wanted to call it, Eren had been his _friend_. He’d been irreplaceable since the first time he picked a fight with him in that diner all those years ago. 

Besides, it’s not like Jean has any right to control Eren’s life.

Eren nods, swallows once, and then they’re both standing at the same time without saying a word, pulling each other into a hug. Jean is still that little bit taller, and Eren’s face still fits into his shoulder just right, and Jean still puts his arms around Eren’s shoulders as Eren wraps his own lower, around the middle of Jean’s torso, but Eren’s skinnier than he used to be and he smells different to how Jean remembers, and Jean’s heart doesn’t feel _full_ the way it did when they used to hug. It’s not awful, though. It just hurts because it’s not the same.

It doesn’t last long before they’re both pulling away. They stand there, and Eren watches him for a moment before he’s lifting his hands to pull the sunglasses from Jean’s face. He holds them aloft in the air between them, frozen, and Jean knows it’s because he sees swollen eyes, red and watery. He scoffs, taking his only defence back from those beautiful fingers and slides the sunglasses back onto his face. He sits down, ignores the fact they both know exactly what he’s feeling now, and clears his throat.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

And he means it.  
  
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A couple of weeks later and Jean is adjusting. He started speaking to Ymir after a day, when she brought him takeout ribs from his favorite place half an hour from the city and they watched ESPN together all night. It had been nice to have a hangout night with just her, rare since she and Krista had moved in together, and after her apology, she hadn’t tried to broach the subject of Eren. Sasha and Connie had apologized despite the fact he couldn’t really blame them for anything, and Eren had gotten his number from Armin and texted him a few times, but they always came across as sheepish, like he knew it was awkward and felt like he shouldn’t. They’re well into September now, the air is starting to change from ‘post-Summer’ and into Fall, Jean’s favorite season.

Today has been pretty good. He’d gotten up early, gotten off the bus a stop before his usual and enjoyed the bright sunlight cutting through the crisp, cold air before heading into work, where he’d had an unusually productive day. It’s seven p.m. and he’s at home, spinning around on his office chair to the loud dial tone on his desktop computer because Marco has a day off. This is the first time in a long while their schedules have synced up enough (sixteen hour time difference is a bitch) so they’re going to Skype.

The abrasive beeping ceases and Jean grabs the edge of the desk abruptly to stop his spinning, pulling himself towards the desk and grinning as they finally connect, the image of his other best friend appearing on the screen. Just the fucking sight of him eases Jean’s soul, which is cheesy but true. Marco looks good – tanned from all his work outdoors; freckles an explosion across his skin, more prominent than they had been at home thanks to the sun exposure. His hair’s longer than the last time Jean had seen him too; apparently Marco has decided to grow out his usual short cropped style, enough that his natural curls are able to manifest themselves, hair wisping in at his temples and up and away from the top and sides of his head. Most of all he looks happy. Happy to see Jean, and just happy in himself. Jean wonders what that’s like. 

“Hi.”

Jean’s smile grows and his body relaxes, expression settling into something gentle as he leans forward. “Hey yourself. You look great, though I hope you’re applying enough sunscreen.”

They chat for a while, and Jean feels bad about taking the other’s time like this, since he knows Marco has a pretty Kiwi girl there with the same passion for wildlife and conservation and khaki as he does, and thinks he should be spending his day off with her. Marco tells him not to worry of course, and it’s only when he reveals that she’s at work and won’t be back for a good few hours yet that Jean feels okay about it. His friend is all easy smiles and hand gestures as he explains what’s been going on lately, both at work and in his regular life, taking control of the conversation as Jean listens gratefully. Marco might be on the other side of the world, but he still knows what’s going on. Even if he didn’t, he’d be able to take one look at Jean’s face and know exactly what he needed.

He broaches _the_ topic eventually though, like Jean knew he inevitably would, and the blond sighs, looks away from the screen as he runs a hand through his hair. It’s always been easier to talk to Marco about feelings over Ymir, so of course he ends up spilling his guts and Marco nods and hums in understanding in all the right places, eyes earnest as he watches Jean’s image on his own screen.

Jean has his head in his hands, chest aching anew as he says “I just thought having him here would make it better but it doesn’t. It’s not worse, I don’t think, it’s just different, and now I’m scared that I’ll never get over this and fuck Marco, I don’t know what to do.” Marco’s eyes are sad though Jean doesn’t see them – he’s too busy thinking that if Marco was here right now, this is when he’d move forward to hug him, and how lonely that makes him feel.  
  
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A few days later Jean decides that he can’t live like this forever, he can’t let himself feel so fucking complicated whenever Eren is around, but can’t (doesn’t want to) avoid him either, so he bites his tongue and prescribes himself a bit of exposure therapy.

Turns out Eren’s workplace - some hip open-plan office at the top of a shiny building in downtown – is close to his own, so they start meeting up any Tuesday and Friday their work schedules align to have lunch together. It’s weird at first, because they both know each other but they also _don’t_ , so there’s a lot of initial feeling-the-atmosphere and re-establishing boundaries, but soon they rediscover and relearn aspects of the friendship they had before everything else happened. It’s still more tentative than it used to be, a lot less natural to them, but it works and they can laugh and joke and share stories after a while. The ghost of the past them still hangs over them, but it gets easier to ignore.

Easier still when Jean starts initiating text conversations occasionally, and Eren takes that as a cue it’s _okay_ and yeah, they become something like friends.

Eren snorts and calls him a hipster for his tortoise shell glasses over their salad lunches one day, and Jean raises a brow and asks which of them reports for a self-professed ‘up-and-coming socially-conscious news resource’ used mostly by college kids and “young innovators” (whatever that means). Eren doesn’t have a good retort for that, so he just makes a bitchy comment reminding Jean of his mathlete days and what a nerdy little prick he had been, still was.

Weeks pass like that, weekdays spent working and occasionally getting lunch with Eren and Sundays spent hanging with Ymir either doing whatever activity they feel like or just hanging at her place with Krista in the ‘burbs, but always ending with dinner in the evening. November rolls around at the temperature drops even more, the leaves turning their usual fiery hues before dropping to the ground, crunching under Jean’s shoes as he get out of the car and walks across the street to Ymir and Krista’s place for their annual day-before-Thanksgiving dinner. There are already cars filling up the driveway, and when he steps through the door and pulls off his scarf, he sees that his suspicions are correct and he’s the last to arrive.

The house is warm and filled with happy (loud) voices, the glorious scent of Krista’s cooking winding through the air to greet him where he’s taking off his shoes at the doorway, smiling and glad for family. He passes the doorway to the kitchen, sees Sasha’s efforts at sampling something in a pot thwarted by Krista’s quick reactions with her wooden spoon and even catches a glimpse of Mikasa and Armin before he continues on to the living/dining room. All the regular furniture has been pushed aside to make room for the special dinner set-up comprising of both the table usually in the room and the one from Connie and Sasha’s place, as well as a muddle of random chairs from various places, because Krista insists that everyone has to sit together at one table. Eren and Connie are helping put the chairs around the table now everything else has been set, and Jean picks up the one closest to him to lend a hand.

“You finally made it. Should have known you would skip out on all the heavy lifting.” That’s Ymir, and Jean has to roll his eyes because he knows they’re both secretly pleased he wasn’t here for it – they both like to be in charge of these kinds of operations and probably would have ended up bickering if not in an all-out wrestle on the floor.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pushing his glasses back up his nose because he’d been too lazy for contacts lately. The frigid air makes his eyeballs feel cold and for some reason glasses feel like protection. “Wanted to finish a report for work before I began any celebrations. Tried to message Marco to see if he was available to chat too, but I guess he’s busy.” Ymir smiles at that for some reason, bringing plates she’s retrieved from one of the cabinets to the table and setting them out on the tabletop.

Not long later the food is being brought to the table, Sasha practically salivating over a pot of potatoes she’s carrying from the kitchen. It’s an impressive spread, even for Krista, and Jean realizes it’s because Eren is here again, he’s always been good at cooking so he must have lent a hand at some point. It was why he and the little blond woman had always gotten along; they’d developed a certain comradery at some point, cooking for all their rabid friends.

They used to go on double dates, occasionally. It had been nice.

It’s not until everything’s ready and they all sit down that Jean notices. Ymir is at the head of the table, snarky and bossy as she tells Sasha that no, she can’t eat yet. He’s at the end of the right side of the table, far from her because Ymir is annoying in large groups. Eren is next to him, Mikasa to his side and Armin opposite, but there’s an empty seat beside Armin, with a place set. An odd number. Everyone’s here though: Ymir, Krista, Sasha, Connie, Mikasa, Armin, Eren, him. Everyone’s all present and correct, so why – 

He leans forward and cranes his neck to regard Ymir at the other end of the table, who’s fucking _waiting_ for him to do so, and a smile, soft and _weird_ , spreads over her lips in the same instant the front door opens and closes, the sound of someone taking off their shoes and outer garments filtering down the hall. Footsteps, and then a figure appears at the doorway behind Krista and Armin.

“Sorry I’m late! Did I keep you all waiting for long?”

Heads are turning and people are calling out lively greetings but Jean doesn’t hear it, standing up in an explosion of movement. His chair topples in response, hitting the ground with a thud but Jean doesn’t realize because all he can see, all he can think about, is the figure of his best friend he hasn’t seen for a year standing meters away from him.

Marco is _here_ , in the same hemisphere, the same country, the same _room_ , and Jean’s throat constricts along with his chest as he rounds the table, taking quick, decisive steps towards his best friend and pulling him into his arms.

Jean isn’t one for public displays of affection really, romantic or otherwise, so when he actually initiates contact with someone when there are other people around to see it, it means something.

His friend is here, in the flesh, solid in his embrace and hugging back, and this is what he needed. At this time in his life when he’s feeling too many things he doesn’t understand, he needs the presence of someone like Marco, calm and constant and understanding, to steady him through it all. Ymir is fantastic in her own bitchy way, and his best friend always, but there’s a quality that Marco possesses that everyone recognizes is completely unique, and cannot be replicated. 

The two of them, his best friends, closest allies, his _family_ planned this surprise behind his back because they knew it was what he needed. The bastards.

He’s laughing, out of elation but mostly to distract from his watery eyes as they pull away, guiding Marco to the table before he notices Eren picking up his chair and looking at him with a soft smile. Jean lets his eyes scan over the table as he sits down, and he smiles into his can of beer because despite the fact his chest feels fit to burst, there’s something soothing about seeing the complete picture with his own eyes. He knows everyone else feels the same, too, when he looks at their smiling faces.

After they’ve all cleared their plates and deposited them in the kitchen, and Sasha has failed her attempt to consume everything Eren and Krista had prepared, Jean is out on the back porch, cigarette between two numbing fingers.

“I thought I told you those were bad for you.” He smiles at the dark yard in front of him, because Marco has been telling him for years, but he still won’t quit.

“You know what they say: once a badboy, always a badboy.”

“No one says that.” And ah, there’s that tinkling laugh he’s missed hearing so much. It doesn’t sound the same through tinny speakers. Marco leans his hip against the low wooden railing Jean has to bend down to lean his forearms against, and he glances up to see him smiling down at him.

“I booked the tickets as soon as we cut the Skype call back in September. Told Ymir because I needed an inside ma—woman, and I know she loves some good old espionage.” Jean laughs as he brings the filter back to his lips, nodding. “Fuck you guys.”

Then he’s sucking in toxins, holding them in his lungs for a moment before letting out a thin stream of white smoke from between his lips. “You’re the best.”

“Well, that’s a mixed message if I ever heard one.”

Marco folds his arms, turns his face out to survey the small garden the two girls have here, though a dirty white sun lounger and a barbecue the only real notable features at this time of night. His voice is so gentle in the late November air when he says “it’s been a crazy few months, huh?”. Jean’s eyes close of their own volition, and he presses his lips together as he thinks yeah, it really has. The warm weight of the hand that settles on his shoulder makes him feel better, though.

The man stays for a week before he has to return to New Zealand, and despite all the activities, quality time and whatnot, they fit into that short time, the blond is still sad to see him go. Marco fits back into their lives seamlessly for that one week, and it’s not complicated or awkward. It helps Jean relax, eases a tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding in his frame. He’s sorry to see him go, as he waves him off at the airport, but he’s pleased to have had the time, and vows that one day he’ll be the one that makes the trip.  
  
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Eventually Eren’s presence becomes normal in the way Marco’s had been that week, though of course it takes much longer, because of what they were before and how things – ended? got put on hiatus? Jean tries not to think those kinds of thoughts anymore though, and right now they couldn’t be farther from his mind.

“You’ve done it all wrong!” Eren yells at him, cheeks red and eyes blazing up at Jean from where he’s sat cross-legged on the carpet. “This is all your fault! You’re an idiot!” Jean barks out an indignant laugh, throwing his head back in disbelief before brandishing the screwdriver still in his right hand, pointing it at the other in accusation.

“You were the one reading out the instructions, as per your _request_. I did exactly what you said, if anything, it’s _your_ fault!”

Eren’s not happy with that, Jean can tell, but he also can’t deny it. The brunette huffs, glancing at the instruction pamphlet he’s already tossed to the side, then the pieces of flat-pack around him, and finally, at the lopsided desk which was supposed to be finished by now, according to those same instructions, despite the fact they hadn’t even used all the pieces yet.

Something had definitely gone wrong.

It’s not like Jean even wants to help, but everyone else is busy in the wake of the New Year, and Eren can’t live much longer without furniture. He’d finally found a suitable place after months of looking, and had moved from Armin and Mikasa’s sofa into the new place. It came empty, and though Jean had fully expected the brunette to scour the city for cheap, unusual second-hand items to furnish the place, he’d succumbed to the convenience and affordability of the mighty Ikea instead.

The ordeal of actually having to build the cheap furniture had apparently slipped his mind though, and now here they were, in Eren’s spare room (“office”) surrounded by aforementioned debris and _many more_ boxes of flatpack furniture ready to be built stacked in the living room. The very thought of the others to follow makes Jean want to stab himself in the eye with the screwdriver he’s holding. He’s only been here for an hour or so, and they’ve been bickering the whole time.

In fact, Eren’s talking shit right now, he realizes, but doesn’t bother tune into listen, sinking back to his knees and talking over him instead. “Okay. Give me the paper while you take this apart-” Eren’s ready to argue and Jean just shoots him a glare, stopping him in his tracks. “ _Carefully._ I’m gonna read this through and then I’m going to start again. You’re going to make me a turkey club sandwich and a coffee and stay away from me while I work.”

Eren looks put out, and Jean isn’t sure if it’s because he’s being told he’s useless or because he’s being banished, but he does as he’s told. It works out, too, because the desk goes up in no time, actually looks like the picture and seems steady this go around. Jean can eat his sandwich in satisfaction, as they sit on the floor in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes and watching the rain pelt against the doors leading to Eren’s tiny balcony.  
  
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Eren’s proud of that little apartment when it’s done. So much so that he invites people around for a “house-warming soirée”, which really just consists of the usual suspects and three people from Eren’s work that he’s presumably strong-armed into liking him. Jean likes Reiner, he’s big and chill and he likes sports – doesn’t look down on soccer, which is nice, so they have a short conversation over beer in the kitchen. Bert is taller, but slightly more nervous. He hears distantly that Bert reports on science news and ethics when Eren is tactically introducing him to Armin, and the two nerds start a conversation about some reactor or collider or whatever Jean doesn’t know about and Eren looks pleased. Annie is scary and mysterious, so Jean avoids her.

Avoids everyone, to be honest. He’d started the night dutifully socializing (mostly at Eren’s insistence) but these people he hasn’t met before had looked from the brunette happily introducing them to Jean like they Knew something. What that was, Jean didn’t know, but it made him nervous. So here he is, leaning against the wall with his third beer and watching everyone mingle, thinking that they really must be getting older if this is what a house party has become.

Eren sidles up to him, leaning against the wall beside him. Their arms are touching. “This is nice.” 

Jean mere hums in response, taking a sip of his beer because they both know gatherings with new people make him nervous, but this is Eren’s night and he doesn’t want to be a downer by being honest. 

“It’s just..” Hazel eyes flick over to watch Eren then, who is licking his lips and looking across the room but not actually seeing it. “It feels like putting down roots, you know? I feel grounded.” It should sound hippy-ish and pretentious, but it doesn’t, because it’s coming from Eren’s mouth, sounds husky and relaxed. Just earnest. “Before was fun, but I was drifting. I didn’t have a home. It’s nice to have something like that again.” Jean’s still watching him, so when Eren turns to him, gives him a soft smile, he doesn’t miss it.

He knows exactly what he means.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that I have gotten New Zealand's climate wrong - the only thing I know about New Zealand besides Lord of the Rings was shot there is that it's close to Australia so in my ignorance I assumed it was sunny, idk.
> 
> If there's mistakes I'm sorry I've checked this a million times and done dozens of edits let me liiiive. This was thirteen pages compared to last chapter's eight so phew. 
> 
> Also, if you have a request for the POV of the next chapter, let me know because I honestly haven't decided yet! (laugh)


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